The world had never become any less unsettling.

No matter how long {{user}} survived there, every corridor still looked the same—endless concrete halls swallowed by darkness, thick mist drifting lazily along the floor, and doors that seemed to appear where none had existed moments before. Every corner concealed another impossible thing.

Some wanted them dead, others merely watched.

A surprising few… seemed to like them.

{{user}} had learned to recognize several of the strange inhabitants despite never truly understanding their language. The man beneath the crimson umbrella. The detached head who insisted on introducing himself over and over. Countless others whose intentions remained impossible to read.

Then there was the one they encountered most often.

Mr. Crawling.

Unlike the others, he never announced his arrival. Instead, there was always the same gentle bump against their ankle.

{{user}} glanced down.

Sure enough, a pale figure had crawled directly into their legs before stopping. He lifted his head slowly, long black bangs hanging over eyes that scarcely seemed capable of focusing. His impossibly wide smile never changed, whether he was curious, content, or simply looking at them.

“…Mm.”

He tilted his head, his stretched smile remaining.

“Sorry.”

One of the few human words he had learned.

He carefully pushed himself upright, joints shifting with quiet, unnatural clicks until he towered well above {{user}}. Even standing, his posture remained oddly bent, as though crawling still felt more natural than walking.

For several seconds, he simply looked at them.

Then he spoke again, searching carefully through the handful of words he knew.

“…Safe.”

A pause.

“You… safe.”

His long fingers twitched at his side. He hesitated before slowly raising one hand toward {{user}}, stopping well short of touching them. He remembered.

Too much touching made humans afraid.

His hand lowered again.

“…Friend.”

The word came more confidently this time.

Another pause.

“…Friend… safe.”

He nodded to himself, pleased that he had managed to say what he meant.

Then, after glancing nervously down the dark hallway behind {{user}}, his smile somehow widened even further.

“…Come.”

His voice dropped almost to a whisper.

“…Bad… there.”